Stench of Regret
by sonicfan1990
Summary: Loosely based on the episode To Serve and Protect of the CGI series. Alvin's pranks and taunts have finally taken their toll on Simon, making him give up his position as the Safety Supervisor. But then, what Alvin didn't expect is that his actions have inadvertently caused poor Simon to fall ill on the day the family is due to go to the Smithsonian Museum. Can Alvin fix this?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there everyone, this here is the first _Alvin and the Chipmunk_ fanfic I have ever written, and to be honest, it felt rather great to write about a new fandom, taking a small break from the usual ones and all that. In any case, this fic is based, loosely, upon the events taking place in the episode To Serve and Protect in the new CGI TV series, episode 7A (Yeah, I'm still a little bit of a kid at heart, and I'm darn proud of it). But then, die-hard fans of the series can also imagine the events here taking place in the movie version or the classic universe of the three adorable singing munks. Enjoy! :)**

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Stench of Regret – Part 1

The principal sat rigidly behind her desk, her delicate fingers intertwined with each other and neatly tucked underneath her chin. Her eyes, analytical and serious but still holding a sense of gentleness that effectively put her students at ease in her presence, studied the boy currently sitting before her. Being the principal, it was not unusual for her to see students in her own office during breaks, yet at the moment, the presence of this one in particular was rather strange, unorthodox even. Neither she nor the other made any attempt at shattering the veil of silence haunting the room, and the boy himself seemed lost in his own thoughts, his round-framed glasses slightly askew from the way he was hanging his head – in what, she did not know for sure yet, but the subtle indications expressed by his body language were surely implying something akin to shame and helplessness, her experience aptly concluded.

The silence stretched on and on for a while longer, and still, the lone boy refused to say anything after his initial greetings upon entering, spoken in a hushed voice, whispery, weak, barely audible. Deeming that she had waited long enough, the woman feigned a polite cough into one fist, at long last dispelling the gloomy atmosphere and bringing the sound of life back to the serene office. In a gentle, tentative voice, she started the conversation.

"Mister Seville, if you have anything you would like to discuss here, please feel free to. There is no need to restrain yourself around me," said the woman, looking at the bespectacled Seville boy sitting before her, whose fingers were tenderly touching the silver-colored badge upon his chest.

At first, the young boy made no response, prompting her to try again.

"Mister Seville?" she pried gently, "Simon? Is there something wrong? If you don't feel well, perhaps I should give your guardian a call and have him come take you home."

Simon sat still, his fingers animatedly fiddling with the badge which was now being held in his tiny palm. From her position, she noticed that the young chipmunk was eyeing the object with a blatant look of longing, treating it as though it was the most precious thing he had ever held in his tiny palm. And yet, in that look, signs of distress and sadness could also be spotted, clearly conveyed.

"Simon?" she asked again, lowering her voice even further and leaning forward on her seat.

"No, miss, that would not be necessary, for this problem doesn't require the involvement of my guardian at all," the middle child of the chipmunk band replied at last, much to the woman's relief. Such feeling was short-lived, unfortunately, swiftly replaced by another wave of concern for student.

Simon looked up and, after much deliberation on his part, finally placed the badge of the school's Safety Supervisor on the desk, albeit with much reluctance. Lifting his chin up, he directed his eyes at the principal and forced a small smile onto his face.

"I … I would like to return the badge and resign from the position of the school's Safety Supervisor," Simon said quietly and earnestly. The woman before him raised one brow questioningly.

"And may I ask what sorts of circumstances have led you to make this… sudden decision, Simon? If I remember correctly, you were rather ecstatic when you were given this title and this badge a few days ago."

"I was, miss. Truly. Whole-heartedly."

"Oh…Then, does this position no longer appeal to you the way it initially did? I know being a supervisor can be a tremendous task, especially when it causes your peers to look at you in a different light, with wariness and preservation."

"Oh no no. It's nothing like that," Simon answered quickly, vehemently shaking his head, "In truth, this position is like my dream here, to be given responsibilities of ensuring a safe, healthy studying environment for every student here… I cannot be prouder."

"Hmm, then please, if you don't mind me asking, why do you decide to turn in your badge, Simon. Your records are, and I must admit, incredibly pristine, well, mostly, due to the little stunts you got caught up in with your brother Alvin the previous time.

"Please don't remind me of that Alien incident," Simon shivered as the memories resurfaced, bringing a wince to his face.

"Ahem… In addition to your flawless academic records, your reputation as a student at this school is also unimpeachable among all the teachers and faculty members. So if someone is to be entrusted with the duties of the Safety Supervisor, the first name that comes to my mind is you, Simon."

"To be honest, I'm honored that you hold me in such high regards, miss," the chipmunk replied, apparently abashed by the shower of compliments, but his pride was swiftly squashed by a new wave of shame washing over him. "But over the last couple of days, I have…come to a harsh yet undeniable realization that I am unable to set my priorities straight and allow such confusions to interfere with the execution of my duties, resulting in acts of blatant negligence on my part, all of which I cannot forgive nor can I tolerate any longer. As a consequence of my own incompetence, I have decided that I… I am not fit to wear this badge. I am terribly sorry for not living up to your expectations, miss." He finished with a bow, thus missing the look of skepticism that briefly dominated the principal's expression. When Simon lifted his head up, the look was gone.

With a sigh, the woman reached out and retrieved the badge in front of her. "Alright Simon," she started, "I will hold on to this badge and revoke your position - _for_ _now_. Should you reconsider anytime soon, you know where to find me."

"Thank you."

"Is there anything else you wish to talk to me about, mister Seville?"

"No, ma'am. That should be all. Thank you very much for your time," Simon answered courteously. The principal nodded.

"Then please get back to your class. I believe your next period is starting soon."

Simon did as told and exited the office. The moment the door behind him was shut closed, the young scholarly chipmunk finally let out a breath he did not even realize he was holding. His square shoulders sagged as though a heavy weight had been lifted from them. The darker fur on his head was matted and drenched with numerous beads of sweats, creating a luminous coating of moist under the sunlight.

"My head…" Simon mumbled to himself as he closed his eyes momentarily and gently massaged his throbbing temples to elevate some of the tension. It worked to a certain extent. Having spent hours the night before cleaning up after Alvin's mess, Simon had significantly thrown his own sleeping schedule off course, and he was now experiencing the repercussions for the lack of sufficient sleep. Coupled with the accumulated stress he had been experiencing for days on end from all the troubles which had been so unjustly thrust upon him - once again courtesy of Alvin and his brand of crazies - and topped off by a frightening nightmare, Simon was clearly drained, exhausted, both physically and mentally. And for the first time ever, he was actually looking forward to the end of school.

"Keep it together, Simon," he scolded himself. One hand reached for his pocket and produced the folded up flyer for the Smithsonian Museum, Simon allowed a small smile to grace his lips, strained and awkwardly forced, "Think about tomorrow. Think about tomorrow. Think about the exhibitions you are going to see. Yes, just rid your head of thoughts about Alvin and how he … how he … how he selfishly screwed things up you… and… and cost you the position…"

An uncharacteristically angry frown twisted his facial expression darkly, complete with a throaty growl. His hands were curled into tight fists, crumbling the flyer he was holding. "Three years… After three years of going along with whatever choice he made, and this is how he repays me… I can't believe him … Why did Alvin do this to me? For once, can't he be happy for me? Or at least, _pretend_ to be happy for me and my decisions… Why can't he?"

After standing where he was and immersing himself in his reverie for a few more minutes, Simon shook his head and threw the flyer into the trash can nearby before making his way back to class, skipping the last few minutes of lunch break altogether. His appetite was not working right anyway.

And as to be expected, he had to run into Alvin, leaning smugly against his locker with a comic book in hand. Their eyes met, and in an instant, the pair belonging to the older of the two lit up with the usual sparks of unconcealed mischief. A smirk soon followed as he stared at Simon straight in the face, noticing the frown worn by the bespectacled chipmunk. Of course, a snide remark was sure to follow.

"Hello, Alvin," Simon said first before turning away and heading to class, hoping to evade his brother. Unfortunately, the young scholar in blue was not fast enough.

"Oh no, you caught me," said the red-clad chipmunk with a dramatic tone, one that would surely do the drama club proud should he play the role of Romeo on his last dying breaths, "I guess you're going to give me a citation now, huh? But if you do that, I'll have to go to detention, and then, I'll be in trouble with Dave! And what's more, the trip's tomorrow, right, _oh_! It would just break my heart to cause _all of us_ to miss out on such a _fun_ and _exciting_ journey to the Smithsonian Museum and take a walk through the ages of history and all that jazz that should really belong in history, you know, _buried_ ," he ended with no small amount of sarcasm lacing every single syllable that escaped his lips. His smirk grew all the wider toward the end of his statement, daringly challenging the other to take action against such provocations.

Simon did nothing of the sort. Instead, he wordlessly gave his brother a sidelong look, his face now devoid of any emotions. To Alvin's surprise, Simon turned his eyes away and went into the classroom, not even bothering to come up with a retort. Though he had been treated like this before, but this time, that blank, emotionless expression adorning his brother's face actually made something twist inside Alvin's heart and stomach, and at once, the mischievous member of the trio felt a foreboding sense of dread glooming over him, ominously telling him something was off. Sure, he and Simon fought all the time, and Simon refusing to talk to him for a while after their heated arguments was not at all uncommon, but this time, Alvin could not help but feel like something was different, wrong, and he closed his comic book, contemplating his recent actions toward his intelligent brother.

 _Did I go too far?_ A tiny voice inside his head wondered.

But then, his short attention span chose this exact moment to kick back in, silencing the faint voice inside his mind.

"Nah, Simon's probably about to surrender to my terms. Maybe tonight," said the chipmunk in red, his grin returning, as he gleefully decided to skip the rest of the class, immersing himself in his comics inside the empty hallway.

Yet, the twinge of unease still lied inside him, dormant, deep-seated, ignored, unanswered… until later that day.

The rest of the day uneventfully and idly went by, and before long, much to everyone's relief, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day and the beginning of the vacation for all.

"Alright class," miss Smith started, "Even though it's time for your vacation, you still need to…"

And before she was even halfway through the announcement, the class was already empty, every student moving with unusual – perhaps to the point of paranormal - speed and stealth never before displayed in their gym classes. Naturally, Simon was the last one to linger behind, carefully gathering his stuff and placing them in his bag. His movements, however, appeared sluggish.

"Ah, Simon," said the teacher again, but then, she noticed his lack of response from her prized student, along with a blank, unfocused look darkening his face. He had yet to acknowledge her presence.

"Simon?" miss Smith tried again, but Simon still paid her no mind – a most unusual act coming from one of the highest honors students of the school. "Simon!"

That last shout did the trick, and with a start, Simon looked up at his teacher, his face pale. "Yes, miss Smith?" he asked breathily.

"Are you feeling okay, Simon? It's not like you to space out in the classroom like that. You do look a little pale and out of it."

"I'm fine," the boy replied, a tad too quickly and consequently earning himself a suspicious look from the teacher. Noticing it, he added, "I just had a hard day, that's all. A bit of time spent on resting and I'm certain I'll be as good as new in no time."

"I hope for your sake you're right. Now, get home quickly and rest up. And enjoy your vacation."

Simon nodded politely and offered his teacher a smile before he took his leave. With each step, he felt his disorientation increase, and it was hard to walk on a straight line, much less focus on anything.

"Ouch… my head… Why do I feel like there's someone wearing a pair of metal boots doing cha-cha-cha inside it?" he muttered to himself as he walked out of the empty school gate. Out of the blue, a blaring noise of car horn assaulting his overly sensitive ears, making Simon jump and land on his butt. A moan escaped his lips when his backside met cold ground - cold ground which felt somewhat comfortable… and strangely soft, inviting even…

"Hey Simon!" shouted Alvin from where he was looking out from Dave's car, waving his hand impatiently and frantically. Simon's head snapped up as the other continued, "We know you love the school, but we need to get back home, like, now if you don't mind. I'm starving here!"

"Yeah, come on, Simon! It's dinner time!" Theodore chimed in, motivated solely from thoughts of food.

Letting out a long, weary string of breath, Simon, using everything remaining ounce of energy he could muster up in his current state, pushed himself up and made his way toward Dave's car, swaying a bit on his feet.

"What's wrong with me today? Ouch... My head's killing me!" he grumbled as he walked. The others did not seem to notice, too lost on their own discussions about what to have for dinner that night. After two torturous minutes, Simon at last arrived at his destination. Upon getting in and buckling his seatbelt, he sighed again, this time in relief, finally getting his chance to rest.

"How was your day Simon?" Dave asked as he started the car and began to drive away, his eyes fixed on the road.

"Fine," came the soft, curt reply of the tiny scholar. The brevity of the response warranted three pairs of eyes looking at him within seconds, all three widened in surprise.

"Simon?" Theodore questioned, sheepish, "Are you feeling alright? Your face looks a little lighter than usual. A bit whitish, somewhat like Alvin's overdue milk the other day."

It took a lot of self-control for Simon to keep from throwing up at that unintentionally nasty comparison. Luckily, he managed.

"And you're sweating bullets, Si," Alvin chimed in. "Where did you just come out of, a sauna?" he jested lightheartedly to lift the mood. His effort was, sadly, lost on Simon, who was still doing his best to recover from Theodore's latest remark.

"I'm fine," the blue-clad chipmunk repeated and turned away, stubbornly refusing to meet Alvin's curious and subtly concerned gaze.

Alvin looked at Theodore, but they decided to leave their brother be for the time being. The rest of the trip home was spent in complete and uncomfortable silence, with Alvin occasionally shooting private glances at Simon's direction. Unbeknownst to himself, an expression of worry appeared on his face. His lips curved upward in a frown, and his brows accordingly knitted together, completing the look.

The atmosphere inside the car was tense, and nobody made a move to dispel it. A break finally arrived when Dave ultimately pulled over into their house, and let the three brothers out.

"You guys get in first and set the table. We'll be having steak for the night."

"Okay, Dave!" Theodore and Alvin sang in chorus and in their excitement, dashed straight into the house first. Simon remained stationary, much to the man's bewilderment.

"Simon?" he asked his son. His voice snapped Simon out of yet another self-induced trance and brought his attention back to reality.

"Sorry, Dave," he replied, shaking his head a bit, "I had a tiring day at school today, so I suppose I needed a little bit longer to rest."

"You're sure you're feeling okay, buddy?"

"Yeah, I'm totally fine," Simon ascertained, using those same words that seemed to get less and less convincing as time passed. "Don't worry about me. A good rest, and I'll be revitalized soon enough. After all, big day tomorrow, right?" Simon asked rhetorically, this time exerting his little strength left to move his hands in a desperate attempt to appear cheerful. Dave, as he noticed, was not sold.

"Okay Simon, you stay there. I'll carry you inside when I'm done putting the car away."

"Thanks…" said Simon with a thin-lipped smile, "And can I be excused from dinner tonight? I don't feel very hungry at all."

"But you need to eat something, Simon. You're a growing boy, and your body requires nutrition and…"

"I promise I'll make it up with a big breakfast tomorrow before we leave the house," Simon interjected his guardian's words, compromising, "Right now, I just want to sleep. It's been an honestly hectic day in class, and I can seriously use a shuteye right about now."

Dave, looking at his son in growing concern, contemplated the thought. While he knew that Simon needed to eat something at least, he could not bear the thought of forcing the chipmunk to stay awake against his will when the latter was obviously up for the task. And the fact that Simon looked like he was about to fall over the moment his seatbelt was unbuckled was unsettling. Inwardly, he prayed that the poor chipmunk had not contracted anything, knowing full well how important the next day would be to him and how excited he had been all week long.

"Alright Simon," Dave relented at last, albeit with much reluctance evident in his tone. "I'll take you to your room and let you sleep. But remember, big breakfast tomorrow, and a big lunch afterwards. That's final."

"Thanks Dave. I promise," replied Simon, genuinely appreciative for the human's sympathy.

The moment the car was parked inside the garage, Simon was out, too tired to resist the lull of slumber any longer. The last thing he vaguely registered was being picked up by a warm, gentle hand before a pitch-black wave of darkness consumed his mind wholly, drowning what feeble remain of his fading consciousness unto the endless ocean of oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'd like to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favorited this story of mine. I am very, very honored by your efforts and time. And now, without further ado, here comes the next installment of the story. And I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. In case you don't, however, well, please feel free to offer your opinions. I'm open to all manners of criticism. :)**

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Stench of Regret – Part 2

Dave, after quietly and carefully tucking in his exhausted middle son, lingered in the boys' shared bedroom and watched Simon for a little longer, noting the way his tiny chest would rise and fall in constant and rhythmic motions. Simon was still dressed in his day attire, too weary to even get changed into his more comfortable clothing for the night, and was lying still in bed, deep asleep. The face of the slumbering boy was peaceful and relaxed, which served to soothe some of the concern bubbling within the human father figure. But still, Dave could not fully shake off a more deeply rooted feeling of dread loitering about within him, obnoxiously demanding his attention and arousing his parental instincts within.

He would have stayed behind for the rest of the night, overtaken by his own flurry of thoughts had Alvin not shouted from the kitchen below, his voice reaching the highest octave he could produce.

"Dave! Where's the food?" shouted the excitable first son. The sheer volume of his sudden cry made Dave return to reality with a startled gasp. Thankfully, he was able to refrain himself from making any noises and risk rousing Simon in the end. A sigh of relief was released when he had calmed down. His moment, however, was short-lived.

"Dave! Dinner!" came Alvin's cry again, as obnoxiously boisterous and pompous as before, making it virtually impossible to disregard.

"Dave, what would you like for desserts?" asked Theodore this time, sweetly as ever with his considerate character. But Dave could still detect an underlying hint of impatience lacing the exclaimed syllables, prompting him to exit the chipmunks' shared bedroom at once before the other two could wake Simon up with their rambunctious yelling.

Swiftly and stealthily, he made his way toward the door and, after one last look behind at the still form of his middle son, Dave softly closed the door behind him and headed down to get dinner started before his ears were punctured by the piercing high-pitch yelling.

Upon entering the dining area, he was instantly greeted by Alvin lying on the table, spread out and looking as though he was on the verge of meeting his makers.

"Dave…" the oldest chipmunk began, dramatically reaching one hand forward as though he was silently seeking relief from his anguish, "Food, Dave. I need food… Any longer and I'm… oh no, I'm fading… I'm fading fast! _Fading_! Oh, I can see the light at the end of the darkness… Oh, what light through yonder window breaks? It's calling my name…"

"Oh please stop being such a drama queen, Alvin," his surrogate father figure replied with a long, audible sigh, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at the overly done display of theatrics. "A few more minutes of waiting doesn't hurt anyone."

"Hello, my stomach is crying in agony here, Dave. In fact, I think it's crying so loudly, if I hook it up to an amplifier, I can properly use those noises as background beats for a cover of _We Will Rock You_ ," and he began singing the first verse in demonstration to back up his claim.

"Okay, okay," the human spoke up, now annoyed by the infuriating antics of the other as usual, "Look! Why don't you go see if Theodore needs any help with the desserts in the meantime? That should help take your mind off of your belly drum for a while and, as a much welcome extension, off my back as well."

"Sure can do, Dave, but don't blame me if your portions come out missing a few nibbles or bites," answered Alvin and with it, he was gone before anything else could be spoken in retort, hovering over Theodore this time and trying his best, much to the other's misfortune, to get his youngest brother to let him be the test taster. Dave could do little else other than shake his head at his sons in mock exasperation before he got started on dinner.

As the steaks were cooking, releasing streams upon streams of alluringly delicious smells which only served as fuel to stimulate the growling stomachs of the impatient chipmunks afar, Dave's thoughts, oblivious to their cries, wandered before they eventually got back to thinking about Simon along with his noticeably disconcerting behavior. He spaced out for a while as his memory brought back the drained appearance of his middle son, all the while wondering if he should have been more insistent on having the boy eat something before bed. Too far gone in his own musing, Dave did not even realize that his steaks were burning.

"Dave!" shouted both Alvin and Theodore from the kitchen counter, their voices holding a touch a urgency which consequently made him snap back to reality.

"Oh my gosh! Oh my…" he exclaimed before cutting himself short, censoring his language with an admirable display of self-restraint in front of his boys. His hands moved quickly, taking the steaks out and letting them cool down.

"Well done," Alvin commented as he looked at the main protein of the night lying on the plate beside his father figure, mostly brown and a little bit charred at some places.

"Why thank you, Alvin, I handled that situation quite well if I do say so myself," Dave replied with a proud smile and placed the plate down on the table before moving back to get the rest of their dinner.

"Ah yeah… I was talking about _the steaks_ , Dave. _Well_. _Done_! I prefer _medium-rare_ ," Alvin added, his voice even. Dave's expression did a one-hundred-eighty-degree shift at that remark, with the corners of his lips sagging and brows kitting together in annoyance.

"At least they're edible, and we should be grateful for them, right Theodore?" asked Dave as he looked at his youngest son, who nodded, all too enthusiastically as his eyes were fixed on the plate placed in front of him, tempting him and his appetite.

"Yes, Dave," the green-clad chipmunk agreed without even caring what he was agreeing to. In his mind at that particular point in time, that piece of information was inconsequential, outweighed effortlessly by the profound need to put food into his system.

"Time to dig in!" and Theodore did as he claimed, eagerly taking a large bite (as large as his mouth permitted) and chewing his food, both eyes shut closed in bliss as he savored the taste. That scene still held its endearing charm, making Dave's expression falter and ease up almost immediately.

"See, Alvin. Theodore understands. Just be glad we get to have something to eat while many others are deprived of it. We should be thankful, not picky."

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Everything all ends in up as the same mush inside our stomachs anyway," the addressed answered with a roll of his eyes, and it was then that he noticed, rather sharply, the unusual emptiness right beside him. Within seconds, his face twisted up in bewilderment and he directed his gaze back toward his guardian.

"Where's Simon? He should be here by now, or is he too busy admiring himself in the bathroom to have dinner with us?" Alvin jested light-heartedly, no malice inherently intended in his words. The way they came out, however, was drastically opposite. At once, Dave sighed and shook his head in disapproval of his son's tone, his eyes growing duller with a sudden look of weariness subtly present within them.

Returning Alvin's questioning gaze, he began, sternly, "Simon's excused from dinner and he's sleeping right now, Alvin. He's very tired from… whatever happened to him at school today, so he asked me for permission to turn in early. Poor little guy looked exhausted when I took him to bed. I wonder what could have possibly happened that made him this worn out like that? Do you two happen to know anything about it?"

Alvin's face quickly grew a few shades lighter underneath the sanctuary of his cap, justifiable fears of getting grounded popping up inside his ever mischief-filled mind. Luckily, the change went unnoticed. Theodore, on the other hand, had stopped eating, and was humming thoughtfully to himself, trying to recall everything that had transpired between his two older brothers. True to his honest and naïve disposition, Theodore opened his mouth, ready to come clean with everything.

"Actually, Dave," he said, "I think I may have an idea why." That got the others' attention, inducing curiosity in one and dread in the other. Noticing their attention on him, Theodore continued, "Simon and Alvin were…"

Whatever else he was about to disclose was instantly quieted down when a piece of steak was, rather forcefully, stuffed into his mouth, courtesy of his oldest brother.

" _Alvin_!" Dave cried loudly, employing _the_ _tone_ he reserved specifically for the chipmunk in red, "What did you do that for? Theodore could have choked on it!"

"Sorry, his steak looked about to go cold, and you know how he hates cold stuff, with the exception of ice-cream of course," Alvin, as always, had an impromptu excuse ready, "And what he was about to say was that Simon's been having trouble with his duties as the Safety Supervisor for the last couple of days, and… I… I helped a bit."

"Really?" asked Dave, somewhat skeptical.

"Really! You know us kids, Dave, most of us act like we're fueled by sugar rush twenty-four-seven and acting like tomorrow's the last day on Earth and all that jazz. You should visit school sometimes, it's like a warzone there. I mean, look at me for example and then imagine there're hundreds of human-sized versions of me walking around. Can you imagine _that_?" he finished, pointing at himself for emphasis, a proud smile stretching his lips.

"…Sounds like something that gives me recurring nightmares," Dave replied, letting out an involuntary shiver at the mental image slid into his head by his oldest son, "But in any case, I think that's not something that should be encouraged."

"Which one? Me acting the _awesome_ way I usually do or Simon overdoing his ticket-handing-out job?"

" _Both_ ," Dave answered, flatly. "And Alvin, I think you should be a bit more respectful toward your brothers. I know joking around is a part of you, but still, don't overdo it. Simon's job is something he loves, so at least show him some respect and support, okay."

"Noted," replied Alvin with a salute.

"Good," Dave nodded, "Now finish your dinner and head to bed soon. We need to leave early tomorrow. Knowing Simon, he's going to want to see _everything_ at least thrice in the Smithsonian Museum, and you know how big it is. Better rest those legs, boys."

"Ooh… Just thinking about it makes my knees shiver…"

"Alvin…" Dave cut his son off with a stern look.

"Okay!" Alvin and Theodore, unnerved by the look, spoke simultaneously, the latter obviously more tolerant of the prospect of spending their four-day vacation visiting a museum. With Simon asleep, Alvin knew his chance of getting him to switch to another location at the last minute was non-existent; thus, despite much resistance to the idea, Alvin begrudgingly admitted defeat to his slumbering brother upstairs.

Alvin's brows knitted together.

His brother…His tired, drained, utterly _defeated_ and hungry brother resting upstairs…

 _I wonder how he's sleeping right now?_ The voice inside his head whispered again, quietly at first before growing exponentially in volume and intensity.

Alvin, spacing out thanks to the sudden thought and the concern it birthed, animatedly went back to his plate, finishing it without too much trouble despite his initial disdain for the meat's temperature. In fact, he never even paid attention to the taste as he ate.

The rest of dinner was spent in silence, with only occasional remarks made by Theodore regarding his day spent with the Chippettes. Alvin, on the other hand, did not participate much in the conversation. Instead, his thoughts, unwarrantedly, travelled back to Simon. His memory brought forth, with perfect clarity, the void expression worn by the bespectacled brother before entering the classroom.

 _He looked angry and beat, and now, he's dead tired because of you and your shenanigans,_ said the voice inside him again – which gradually sounded a lot less like his own and more like Dave's - in an accusatory and reprimanding tone, resurfacing after hours spent dormant within. And this time, its return was not one that could be ignored so easily, as Alvin quickly learned. The more his thoughts about Simon appeared, the more his concern grew accordingly. Images he had so carelessly ignored now streamed back into his memory like a raging current. The beads of sweat, the lack of responses, the weary voice with which Simon had employed, the breathless breathing… everything was recalled, crystal-clear.

"Dave, I'm done!" he spoke up all of the sudden and pushed the empty dish forward. Before either Dave or Theodore could say anything, Alvin hastily added, "I'm going to check my stuff again and see if I'm missing anything. See ya!"

With dexterity which naturally came with being a chipmunk, Alvin was gone from the dining area and off toward his shared bedroom, more focused and speedy than any greyhound chasing after its designated prey.


	3. Chapter 3

Stench of Regret – Part 3

Tiny palms tentatively pressed against the door before them, and with as much care as their owner could muster, they pushed the door open just a crack, creating barely enough space for Alvin to squeeze himself through and enter the darkened bedroom. The very first thought that popped into his mind, unbidden, was that the place appeared darker than usual with all of its lights switched off and the blinds drawn, completely devoid of all signs of life and completely draped over by a rather eerie blanket of serenity – a perfect setting which one would find in many Hollywood horror classics, as Alvin mentally jested with himself in an attempt to ease the increasing worries boiling within. He had to pause for a few seconds to allow his eyes to get accustomed to the new lightless surroundings. Only when they had did the chipmunk in red begin his advance, carefully treading forward to Simon's bed, upon which a faint, vaguely recognizable hump-like outline could be spotted.

Being born a chipmunk and thus inheriting the species' ever useful penchant for stealth and maneuverability, Alvin made absolutely no noise with his seemingly weightless steps, and only seconds later, he reached his destination without complications. He stood rigidly still next to Simon's bed, with a little bit of anxiety that had managed to bypass his restraint now radiating from his narrowed eyes, and gazed down at the sleeping chipmunk, whose entire form except for his head and a small portion of his shoulders was covered by his warm, fluffy blanket.

Alvin, compelled by the worries which he was trying to banish, leaned down closer and closer to study the other's face in his sleep. Simon's eyes were tightly shut, his expression was, to him, rather relaxed and content. His mouth was even open a little, from which occasional unintelligible murmurs were subconsciously uttered, soft and whispery. The steady rise and fall of his chest underneath his cover also helped to reassure Alvin that his brother's rest was a peaceful one, void of restlessness and nightmares.

The sight eased away some of the growing guilt that had been so insistently gnawing away at his conscience, demanding his attention and action. And now that he had personally ascertained that Simon was resting well, he finally allowed a quiet sigh of relief to pass his lips and pulled his body back. In a sudden and rarely seen display of brotherly affection toward his sibling, Alvin, making sure nobody would be around to see, then reached out and straightened the blanket, pulling it up to cover the rest of Simon's shoulders.

"Sweet dreams, Si," he whispered gently into the other's ear, smiling to himself a bit as he saw it twitch in response. He looked at the alarm clock placed on Simon's nightstand and saw that it was only ten past eight - still too early for either he or Theodore to turn in for the night. Thus, deciding that he had seen enough to set his heart at ease, Alvin, in the same meticulous and considerate fashion as when he had come in, exited the bedroom to join his youngest sibling and father figure downstairs.

Back inside, Simon turned over in his sleep and quietly, he mumbled to himself. His brows suddenly knitted together, his relaxed expression banished by a slight frown. Shuffling under his cover, he began to curl up, and his murmurs, meaningless still, consistently grew more and more frantic as the seconds lazily ticked away.

…

Downstairs, Alvin had joined the rest of his family.

"Hey Alvin," Dave greeted, "Did you check your stuff carefully for tomorrow?"

"Yup," he replied, "Nothing to worry about. Everything's there and accounted for."

"I see… Then, did you take a look at Simon while you were there?"

"Yeah," the chipmunk confirmed, "He's out, sleeping like a baby. I swear, he's even talking in his sleep. If only I had carried a camera with me… What a waste of good blackmail material."

Hearing Alvin's words, disregarding the last part, apparently made both Dave and Theodore relax into their seats. "Thank goodness," said Theodore, ever the considerate chipmunk he was. "He looked really off this evening, but I'm glad he's at least resting now."

"Yah," Alvin responded, taking his spot on the couch for their intended movie night before bed. "So make sure you dial down on the noises when you enter the bedroom. But enough about that. Now, let's get this movie night started!" he cried, excited.

Luckily for him, it was Dave's turn to pick, and knowing the man as well as he did, Alvin was certain he would choose a flick which would serve to satisfy the polar interests of his two present sons. Theodore was into the more mellow and friendly productions, while Alvin's interests were more geared toward the action-oriented ones, sometimes filled with a tad too much violence and gore for everyone's approval. The chipmunk in red was not disappointed by his father's choice – a highly acclaimed animation filled with its fair share of humorous fun and action-packed excitement that perfectly accommodated the two chipmunks.

Leaning back and sinking deeper into the softness of the sofa, Alvin, along with Dave and Theodore, began to immerse himself in the film. His worries and concerns soon dissipated, and along with them, so did the critical inner voice inside his mind. The family movie night was spent in a comfortable silence, with only occasional remarks regarding the characters and certain illogical parts of the movie being announced and denounced by the gathered family members.

The latest debate was started by Alvin.

"Yeah, now this," he said, gesturing toward the screen, "This is just another one of those clichés that almost every movie uses. Bad guy gets the main girl; main girl screams; bad guy laughs before getting the snot beaten out of him by the arriving hero. Hero gets the gal and flies off to the sunset and smooches and does whatever it is off-screen that the producers won't show the audience…" he paused a little as the events perfectly played out with his crude commentary.

"Alvin…" Dave began, his voice holding a hint of warning.

"Really!" the red-clad chipmunk continued, unfazed, "It's a good movie overall, but after a while, the plot gets predictable. I mean, the hero got knocked to the brink of doom, and one scream from his girlfriend and he's like, "I'm back baby," with explosions in the background and acting like nothing happened to him."

"I think it's a bit overused, but it's still great," this time Theodore chimed in, "I mean, love can make people do lots of things they normally can't or simply won't because of… reasons," he finished, swooning as the two protagonists sealed a kiss, and the screen faded to black as the credits began to roll.

"Theo, dude…" Alvin spoke up, turning to regard his pudgy brother with a blank expression. "You've been hanging out with the Chippettes _way_ too much. Love… Bleh! Gotta go rinse my ears later."

"But it's true," Theodore insisted, earnest, "Look at Dave for example. When we first came, he couldn't even cook, couldn't even clean the house properly, and now, he can do _anything_. See! Love!" he ended his statement, beaming at the human and his brother. The former smiled appreciatively and proudly while the latter stuck out his tongue.

"Bleh!" he exclaimed, this one even more exaggerated than the previous. "I'm going to bed now. _Peace_!"

"Come now, Alvin," Dave intercepted, and before Alvin could make a run for it, Dave scooped both of his tiny sons up into a group hug, much to the oldest son's distaste, evident by the cringe now adorning his face. "Theodore's right you know. Love can change a person for the better, no matter if it is for the romantic interest of your life or for your family members. In fact…I think I can use this as a theme for my next composition! Ah ha! Inspirations are hitting me!"

"That's great, Dave!" Theodore exclaimed as well, sharing his guardian's joy. Alvin, on the other hand…

"Well then, I hope they keep on hitting and you'll get _yourself knocked_ _out_ , Dave," Alvin spoke again, shivering at the, as his mind so aptly described, _cheesniness_ of the situation. Love and affection and bonding and change… He shivered again, harder but still involuntarily at those… _girly_ thoughts. He was a _boy_ for crying out loud - with an undying _passion_ for actions along with a blessed affinity toward mischief and pranks of epic proportions, not toward… sharing _feelings_. Another shiver worked its way up and down his spine at the mere thought.

Setting his attention back on Dave, Alvin squirmed his way out of his guardian's grasp with little difficulty and with a brief "Good night," he disappeared upstairs toward his shared bedroom once more, ever mindful of making minimal noises as he possibly could in his sleepy state sustained after a long day.

Giving his teeth a quick brush and his changing his attire to better suit the night, Alvin then climbed onto his bed in the middle. The moment his head hit the softness of his pillow, his eyes immediately slipped shut and his mind went blank in a matter of seconds. Sleep was upon him in an instant, and he slept soundly and peacefully until the moment the sun came up from the horizon afar.

The day of Simon's dream vacation had arrived as long last.

…

The infernal blaring noises elicited by the three alarm clocks on each respective nightstand beside each bed filled the room as soon as the digital digits hit six sharp. And they continued on ringing and ringing and ringing before a series of quieter shuffling sounds could be heard from underneath the blankets.

Theodore was the first to get up this morning. Shutting off his alarm clock and giving his back a stretch, he then got out of his bed and headed over to stand between Alvin and Simon.

"Alvin, Simon" said the youngest of chipmunk trio, "It's time to get up."

The oldest of the trio merely rolled around, attempting to block out the headache-inducing noise of his accursed alarm clock by pulled his blanket over his own hear. It was, as to be expected, useless against the device, which he had more than one time dubbed the evilest invention ever. In a whiny tone, Alvin spoke to his brother, "Please stop that thing, Theo. My head… My poor, tortured head is going to explode anytime soon if you don't!"

"Nuh-uh," Theodore replied in an instant with a shake of his head, puffy cheeks bobbling from side to side with the action. "You have to switch it off yourself, Alvin. Dave's order. If I do it, you'll just go back to lazing around, and that's a no-no."

"Oh man!" came the same childish whine once more as Alvin rolled back to face his brother, shooting him a weak glare in the process. Sluggishly, the boy forced his body up and did the task himself. Unfortunately, the noise was reduced, significantly, but not entirely quieted.

Two clocks down, one more to go.

"I don't understand why we need three different alarm clocks when we share the same room anyway! Now that's an overkill," said Alvin as he unceremoniously kicked off his cover. He then made his way over to Simon's nightstand and silenced the last of the clocks himself.

"That's better… so much better," he mumbled with a sigh, immensely relishing in the newfound silence.

"Alvin," Theodore called, prompting him to look, "Simon's still sleeping."

"How in the world did he sleep through that infernal ringing?" the oldest cried before looking at his immediate younger sibling. His eyes widened visibly when he saw that it was true. Simon was still lying in his bed with his blanket hugging his entire form. His face, however, was far from relaxed. The middle chipmunk's brows were knitted together, and his lips were curved downward, forming a grimace.

And both Theodore and Alvin could see that Simon's position was fetal, curling up into a tight little ball, and at certain points, he would mumble something under his breath before shifting his position.

Both Alvin and Theodore quickly grew concerned for their sibling, and how disconcertingly late it was for Simon to still be in bed, especially at the dawn of the day of his dream vacation. "Hello! Simon!" Alvin started, gently yet annoyingly poking his brother's cheek with one finger. The frown only deepened.

"Go away," said Simon weakly in protest before he rolled around again, showing his back to the source of irritability hampering his rest. If Alvin and Theodore had been a slightly bit concerned before, they were profoundly disturbed now. Something was dreadfully wrong – that much was clear.

Stepping forward and employing a much more tentative tone, Alvin spoke up and reached out to place one hand on Simon's shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "Si? Are you feeling okay?"

"No, and you're not helping, so zip it," answered Simon bluntly. The uncharacteristic curtness of his words caused the other two to flinch and take a few steps backward, looking dumbfounded as though they had been physically struck.

"Get Dave. Now," Alvin silently mouthed out to Theodore, who quickly ran out of the room to fetch the guardian without a single second of hesitation.

Carefully walking around the bed to enter Simon's vision, Alvin, after a brief moment of silence, began, his voice holding an odd touch of uncertainty and wariness, "Hey, Simon, how are you feeling?"

"Tired," was the answer, spoken in the same rude and brief manner, disregarding etiquette and formality which had so often been associated with the middle of the Seville children. It brought forth an involuntary wince to the older boy's face.

"Alright… Are you… hurt anywhere?"

"Everywhere," Simon moaned pitifully and tried to curl up even more.

Another wince crossed Alvin's face, this time accompanied by a sharp intake of breath.

"Okay, okay, Si… Look, we're going to get Dave to look at you, and we're going to figure out what's going on, okay. Just… Just stay there. Everything's gonna be alright."

"What day is it today?" the other boy asked in his haze, trying his best to open his eye a crack to regard his brother, apparently oblivious to Alvin's words. And at soon as the question was asked, Alvin became noticeably fidgety and hesitant to answer. But Simon's stare was still on him, waiting, probing.

"It's… the start of our break…" Alvin relented and mumbled out his response. He was shocked when Simon sighed and tried to slowly prop himself up to a sitting position, wincing and groaning agonizingly throughout the entire process. On instinct, Alvin rushed forward and tried to get the other to lie down, earning himself a rather heated pout directed his way.

"Simon, what the heck do you think you're doing? Stay still!" ordered Alvin rather sternly, who would have yelled in outrage had his brother not looked like one of those zombies that break free from their graves, looking all pale and dead and unsteady in their movements. "You're tired, so lie down and wait for Dave to come up and check."

"But… The trip…" Simon muttered breathlessly as though the simple act he had performed had left him physically exhausted. His muscles hurt, and his head felt like it was being repeatedly hammered. His entire body felt like it was being placed upon a pile of burning coals, soaked with numerous beads of sweats matting his fur. Frantic pants mixed with anguished groans escaped his mouth, sounding as though he was fighting desperately for oxygen. Again, Alvin could not prevent the heartfelt grimace that took over his face as he stared down at his brother's tormented expression and appearance as he stared into Simon's hazy, clouded blue eyes.

"Si…" he started, but before Alvin could get anywhere further than that, Simon was forcibly dragged back into the realm of unconsciousness by his fatigue right in front of the shocked and alarmed chipmunk in red.

"Simon!" he cried, and the door swung open a split second later.


	4. Chapter 4

Stench of Regret – Part 4

His mind felt like it was drifting aimlessly around and around within an infinite space without a fixed destination. And his thoughts, usually well organized into separate categories as though they were physical objects and meticulously rational, were now in complete disarray, each one jumbling and tumbling over one another as though they were waging an internal war within his head in an attempt to fight for dominance over the rest. Countless upon countless more questions popped up inside his brain as it strived to make head and tail of what was happening to him at the moment.

 _Where am I? What are those noises? A Voice? Whose? Why does it sound so familiar? What am I doing here? Why is my head hurting so much? And why is my throat so dry?_ And many more internal inquiries appeared in rapid succession. Sadly, the more they appeared, the more confused the boy became, and as a result, he gained not an answer but instead a splitting headache – infernal, in his opinion. Unconsciously, Simon rolled over and elicited a feeble groan, his voice pitifully weak and hoarse and his throat desert-dry from lack of sufficient water from the night before. To make matters worse, his stomach was growling, most probably caused from his skipping dinner the previous night, he hastily concluded.

To concisely summarize his current condition: Simon felt like he was dying from inside out. Everything was either hot or hurting, and any slight movement of his head seemed to make his headache worsen tenfold. Another anguished groan was produced coming from his parched lips as he attempted to roll on his back once more.

All of the sudden, in his weariness, Simon felt something soft and cool placed on his head – oh, how wondrous that sensation was when it was pressed against his heated forehead. Thus, Simon sighed in relief, his breathing slowing down. His face eased up a little, and his knitted brows gradually parted.

"Simon?" asked a worried voice penetrating through his haziness. Blearily, Simon cracked his eyes open a slit and attempted to look at whoever had just called for his attention. Without his glasses, however, all he saw was a blurry collage of unidentifiable shapes and colors. The biggest ones he could spot were the hues of green and brown.

"Theo?" Simon swiftly ventured an educated guest based on the voice and the shades he had grown used to seeing throughout his entire life. Immediately, he felt a hand placed against his own. Weakly, Simon tried to curve his fingers, but the grasp around the other was loose. The sick chipmunk willed his heavy eyelids open more to better see the face of his baby brother. Without the glasses, unfortunately, he could not quite manage the feat.

"Yes Simon, it's me, thank goodness you're awake at last!" the other replied excitedly, chipper that his brother had regained consciousness.

"Urgh… my head…" Simon moaned pathetically. He winced and hissed at the suddenly loud volume assaulting his ears. His head jerked, and the cool fabric upon his overheated forehead fell off.

"Simon!" Theodore, concerned by the drastic change in his brother's expression, raised his voice a little. He only realized too late that his action only served to hurt Simon more, albeit unintentionally.

"Theo… too loud…" the bedridden chipmunk gasped out, his voice quiet and almost inaudible. In an irritated and annoyed tone, he rasped out a brief order to the other boy, "Quiet down…"

Realization sank in, and the younger of the two nodded repeatedly, forgetting that Simon could not even see him. Lowering his voice to a level barely above a whisper, Theodore asked again, much to Simon's relief. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. What's wrong with me?" replied the other. He would have said more, but he was unfortunately forced into silence when he burst out coughing violently, irking his throat and making his headache increase in intensity.

"You have a high fever and low blood pressure, Simon. Dave's out right now to buy some medicine for your condition, and Alvin's making some orange juice for you downstairs because he and Dave wouldn't allow me to touch a knife without supervision. Here," Theodore held out a small glass of water with a straw jutting out, "You should drink some water now that you're awake. Dave's order. You must be pretty thirsty by now."

"Thanks, T."

Simon then made to sit up, but it soon proved that all of his strength had deserted him, chased away by the ailment affecting his body. Simon, not even halfway up, flopped back down against his bed and began panting like he had just been subject to an intensive training regime.

"Simon! Don't exert yourself too much. Here, let me help. Just stay still, okay," said Theodore tenderly, more worried than ever, as he looked at his sibling's exhausted state. Knowing that Simon could not possibly drink by himself, Theodore pointed the end of the straw toward the other's mouth and once again, gently urged his sibling to take some sips. Simon did, and the cool liquid running against his dry throat was most welcoming. Gradually, the entire glass was emptied of its content, and once it was, Simon rolled his head back and closed his eyes once more, desperately willing his headache to go away and leave him alone.

Theodore, though deeply worried by the unnerving silence and lack of action from Simon, could do little to help relieve his pained sibling from his pain, and the best he could manage at the moment was making sure the rewetted fabric was placed back on Simon's head. He was somewhat happy to hear Simon sigh again, greedily welcoming the fresh coolness.

"What day is it today?" Simon asked almost in an absent-minded manner, already forgetting that he had asked Alvin the same question earlier. Theodore, hesitant, bit his lip and tried to find a way to break the news gently, avoiding agitating the drained chipmunk any further.

"Theo?" Simon continued, his shaky, breathy voice shattering the silence and forcing Theodore out of his self-induced reverie. Theodore's head snapped back toward his brother's location with a start, and his eyes came into contact with the partially revealed blue orbs staring questioning into his own widened ones, quietly demanding an answer.

Theodore, as always when put under pressure, began to fidget and twiddle his thumbs, beads upon beads of nervous sweats running down from his head.

"It's…It's… uh. You see…" the youngest began, but he never knew how to finish without disappointing his immediate older sibling. Furthermore, it was as though his tongue was glued tightly into the inside of his mouth, preventing any further syllables from being properly pronounced. Theodore glanced at the door, praying that someone would come through it and save him from the spotlight Simon had unknowingly put him in with his inquiry. His prayer at that moment, however, went unanswered.

"Theodore?" Simon called once more, gathering his brother's attention, "Could you…" he paused and coughed before resuming once more, "What day…" and the rest of his energy was wasted in yet another bout of coughs and groans that followed. Simon, whose face was now red and whose eyes were noticeably glazed over and unfocused, sank harder against his bed and miserably gasped for oxygen.

The sight was absolutely devastating for the youngest and most sensitive chipmunk, who wished he could do more at that moment to aid his brother in his struggle against his conditions.

"Simon…" started Theodore, gently and carefully, "Stay put. I'll grab some more water and I'll be back in a flash."

More coughing noises were heard before a muffled "Okay," was uttered. Without waiting for another second, Theodore swiftly darted straight out of the door after replacing the empty glass of water back on the nightstand.

Once there, the youngest member of the trio yelled out, his voice alarmingly loud.

"Alvin!"

"Oh my sh… Shandaloo!" exclaimed Alvin, adding a well-timed censorship on his language in the presence of his baby brother. "Don't jump on me like that Theodore! Were you trying to give me a heart attack? Not to mention I'm dealing with potentially dangerous kitchen equipments here. You know how long it took me to get this glass of orange juice ready with these tiny hands and some gigantic knives thrice my size? Long, I tell you, _long_! I seriously don't want to start over again, thank you very much."

"Said the I-will-do-the-flying-squirrle-attack-on-everyone-at-any-given-time guy," the chipmunk in green shot back before he remembered the task at hand. "Never mind. Simon's awake and half lucid, but he's still asking about today's date, and I can't tell him! He's going to be crushed if I do, and maybe his condition will get even worse! What should I do, Alvin? What should I do?" his voice took on a more hysteric note toward the end, and his body language equally frantic.

"Huh, must be pretty serious fever if he can't even remember asking me that same question only an hour ago," Alvin sighed and cupped his fingers around his chin, appearing thoughtful in his musing. Seconds later, Alvin, noticing the worried look his baby sibling was wearing out of his peripheral vision, he looked up and turned around to regard him.

"Look, Theo," he started, "Why don't you stay here and clean this place up and then… wait for Dave to come home and see if he needs anything, okay? He's just called and said that the pharmacy is packed and he's currently waiting for his turn, so he should be back within the next half an hour or so depending on his luck, which both of us know is downright more rotten than a one-year-old egg. I'll bring Simon his water and juice and keep him company for the time being."

"Okay… But are you going to be okay alone up there?" asked the green-clad chipmunk, torn between worry and relief. "I mean, you know how much today means to him, right?"

"Yup…"

"And you also know that when he's sick, he's unusually cranky and more demanding than ever, especially toward you, right, Alvin?"

"Unfortunately, yup, but there's nothing I can do about that. I mean, it's maybe my fault that he got sick…

"Maybe? How about _definitely_?" asked the youngest, incredulous. Alvin ignored him completely and went on.

"…With my pranks and harassments and adding to his stress… But in any case, let me worry about Simon, Theodore, you stay here and be good. If I need anything, I'll holler," Alvin replied before flashing his baby brother a charming smile in an attempt to reassure the younger, but the latter could see how strained the act was, "Besides, I'm like a certified master of all diversion tactics known to man. I'll just have to think of a few things to say and keep Simon off topic, and then we'll live."

Theodore nodded mechanically, but the look on his face suggested that he was still extremely skeptical of Alvin's claim, "What about afterward, when he's recovered? What are you going to tell him then? That he spent his vacation confined to his bed and missed out on a vacation trip he's been waiting for three years because _someone_ had to be selfish? Oh, he's not going to be happy about that, either."

Alvin opened his mouth, looking about to say something, yet no words came out of his mouth. Apparently, his foresight did not stretch that far just yet, much to his own dismay. With a shake of his head to dispel the thought and a dismissive claim of "I'll think about that when I cross that bridge later. Right now, let's just focus on helping him get better first," Alvin swiftly turned around and began to walk away toward the bedroom, both chipmunk-sized bottles of water and orange juice tightly held in both of his hands.

…

The walk to his shared bedroom was, in his mind, unusually long and tiring. _Has it always taken this long to reach there?_ He mentally asked himself, but swiftly banished the random thought process from his head to focus on the tasks at hand. Seconds later, Alvin finally arrived.

Much like before, Alvin gently pressed against the door and entered. The first noise that greeted his entrance was absolutely heart-wrenching. Violent and resounding coughs immediately assaulted his sensitive ears and echoed inside the enclosed space, making them sound multiple times worse. On the bed, Alvin could now see Simon curled up and shaking as though he was completely naked in the midst of a raging snowstorm despite the fact that it was only about thirty degrees outside.

"Please tell me he doesn't have the flu to go with his fever out of the blue," muttered the red-clad chipmunk as he slowly and carefully approached the bedridden sibling. Upon closer inspection, Simon looked even more miserable than ever, and the mere sight of his intelligent brother thrashing about in his helplessness and anguish was more than enough to bring a wince to his face against his will.

Alvin feigned a small cough to announce his presence. The first one went unnoticed, the second went unheeded, but the third one succeeded.

Two tired blue irises partially hidden behind fluttering lids bore into his own.

"Hey there Si," Alvin, despite his prior reassurance to Theodore, suddenly felt as if all of his confidence had been zapped away as he laid eyes on Simon, weak and weary and tortured by his sickness. "How… how are you feeling?"

"Like before: hurt!" came the same, curt reply once more, spoken in a gruff, impatient tone so unlike the usual lecturing one with which Simon usually employed whenever he spoke to his more rambunctious and reckless older sibling.

"Okay…" Alvin replied, feeling a little awkward. "Want some orange juice? It'll help a little until Dave gets back with the medicine."

His answer came in the form of more coughing and hacking noises coming from the trembling chipmunk. His cheeks were red, and his breathing had taken an even more erratic note – bad signs of his condition worsening.

Gently, Alvin ran one hand down Simon's arched back, offering as much comfort as he could manage. Approximately twenty seconds passed, and the latest bout of coughing subsided, much to both boys' relief. The older of the duo reached for the empty glass on the nightstand and refilled it.

"Have some water first, Simon," Alvin offered softly and held the straw at right before Simon's mouth, allowing him to drink without having to sit up. Once the sick boy was done rehydrating himself, Alvin rewetted the already warm fabric on top of Simon's forehead and placed it back down.

"Alvin…" he faintly heard his brother call out his name.

"Yes?"

"My glasses…" Simon continued, feebly trying to reach out for the blue-framed object lying just a few inches outside his reach.

"Maybe you should leave those there for the time being, Si. It would be uncomfortable to lie down with those on," Alvin reasoned with a sheepish smile, but he knew his sibling could not even see him without his glasses.

"Can't see… Need glasses…" Simon insisted, and Alvin relented, albeit with much reluctance.

"Okay. Don't get too worked up. Here you go," said the boy in red briefly before he put the glasses on his immediate sibling's face. After a few blinks, Simon opened his eyes and looked around for a few seconds before he looked back at his brother's face hovering near his bedside.

"Hey there, buddy," the older greeted with a strained smile and a small wave. Simon's expression, on the other hand, remained unchanged. His eyes were still fluttering, and his face was still sickly pale, effectively making the feverish shades on his cheeks all the more prominent.

"Hi," he replied robotically. "How long… am I out? Felt like forever…"

"Only for an hour, Si," replied Alvin as he unscrewed the cap on the orange juice bottle, "You gave me quiet a scare when you suddenly fainted like that. Dave came up and checked your blood pressure with our personal monitor thingy when you were out…"

"And?"

"And yours is pretty low," Alvin answered before allowing a private look of shame and regret cross his face, "Must have been caused by all the stress and worries and lack of nutrients. Here, have some orange juice. That should help a little."

"Thanks Alvin," Simon said, genuinely grateful for the thoughtfulness, before he took a sip from the straw inside. It was both sour and sweet. The added sugar tasted nice, and he felt a tiny bit better after a few sips.

"Enough, thanks," said Simon, and Alvin complied and straightened Simon's cover.

"Alvin?" came the inquiring whisper again.

"Yes?"

"I asked Theodore, but he didn't answer…" Simon paused a little to catch his breath. In his haziness, he failed to notice the flinch along with the sudden rigidness in Alvin's posture. He knew what the next words would be, and it was one question he had dreaded. Thus, Alvin began racking his mind, eyes turning wildly from side to side in search for some impromptu topic on the spot, to steer the conversation off course like he had confidently boasted to Theodore earlier. Unfortunately, he was not fast enough before Simon spoke up again.

"What day is… today?" asked the sick boy, his voice cracking and his lips trembling. Alvin, recognizing the wary tone the other was using, immediately had a sinking feeling he already figured that piece of information out, and right now, what he was looking for was not an answer, but rather, a confirmation to cement his already formed suspicion.

 _I'm dead,_ Alvin thought with a internal grimace.

"Oh, Si… uh," Alvin began, looking away from his brother's prying gaze. "Hey, Dave called and said he would be back soon with your medicine. Isn't that great?"

"Alvin…"

"I'm sure after you eat something and take your medicine, everything will be as good as new soon enough and before you realize it, you'll be walking around working on science projects and gizmos and whatever you like to work on and more…"

" _Alvin_ …" Simon tried again, but like before, Alvin deliberately ignored him and went on talking.

"Oh, I just remember, there's…"

" _Avin_!" shouted Simon loudly out of frustration shortly before he broke out coughing again, this time even more violently than the previous times. He rolled to his side and would have fallen out of his bed had Alvin not moved fast enough.

"Simon! Easy there," cried the one in red as he ran circles on the younger's back, "Deep breaths, remember your yoga lessons. Deep breath… In and out, come on, breathe with me. In and out. In and out…That's right. That's a good boy, Simon. Keep breathing alright. Slow and steady."

"Oh…" Simon moaned in misery and closed his eyes. "That hurt…" he mumbled.

"I'm so sorry that this happened to you, Si," muttered Alvin regretfully as he gently stroke his sibling's soaked head, dampened by his own sweats. _And I, in some way, was responsible for causing him all the distress for the entire week._

"Al… Please answer… the question…" the other boy rasped, his voice raw and hoarse, and looked up, staring at the red-clad chipmunk straight in the eye. Unable to resist the pleading and absolutely heartfelt expression on Simon's face, Alvin gave up and sighed in resignation and acceptance.

"Alright, alright," Alvin paused and took in a huge intake of breath, steeling himself for what was to come. "It's the eleventh."

"E-Eleventh," Simon parroted back, his expression blank for a moment before it turned downcast. His eyes were shadowed by his ruffled bang. "Eleventh… Trip?" he muttered again and looked up, and this time, it was not difficult for Alvin to detect a tiny hint of sadness lacing his words and his moist orbs.

Alvin said nothing. His eyes looked away from his sibling and were directed at his feet.

Simon, unfortunately, was not about to give up despite his condition, "Alvin… The trip? What about _the trip_?"

"It's cancelled. Dave's order. Sorry, Si…" he answered at last, but still, he refused to look at the other in the eye as he gave his admittance. The telltale sound of stifled cries and sniffles reaching his ears – as soft as a hollow echo from afar, yet also heart-wrenching to listen to - was already more than what his guilt-ridden conscience could handle at the moment.

What else could he say at that moment, actually?

…Other than the blatant fact that he had caused this gigantic mess in a moment of pure selfishness, and this time, he was not even sure if he had what it took to undo what he had done to his immediate younger brother…


	5. Chapter 5

**First of all, I apologize in advance for the unusual brevity of this chapter, but in my own opinion, I suppose this should suffice for the time being, and this one is essential as a bridge for what's to come later on. In any case, please enjoy and if you have anything to say about it (love it? hate it?), please feel free to make a comment. All comments are welcome and appreciated.**

 **Now then, without further ado, onward to the next chappie! :)**

* * *

Stench of Regret – Part 5

An unspecified amount of time had passed since the deafening silence inside the closed room took reign. The stifled and feeble noises elicited by Simon had long subsided. And now, the bespectacled boy was more of an empty husk, his expression blank, his eyes half open yet unfocused, his lower lip trembling ever so softly as though he wished desperately to speak, to yell, to accuse, to cry but no words could be formed in his feeble condition. Hence, he lied still, stationary, unmoving.

Alvin, no longer able to bear the sheer agony of watching his brother acting so unnaturally lifeless and quiet, at long last managed to work up the courage, or perhaps salvage what was left of it remaining within, to make a move forward.

He carefully reached a hand forward, but soon decided against the action and retracted it. His teeth bit gently on the flesh of his lower lip, and his brain, no matter how fast it was racing in search of a remedy, was completely unsure as to what he should do at the moment without unintentionally making everything worse. His eternal exuberance and overflowing confidence seemed to have dried up all of the sudden, and all that was left within him was the bitter, bitter taste of shame and regret, both of which had been thrust upon him by none other than himself in his bouts of selfishness.

And for once, Alvin was actually willing to admit aloud that it felt absolutely awful to bear such an immense guilt.

"Simon…" he started once his control over his vocal cord returned. The apology was already at the very tip of his tongue, and all he had to do was let it out, genuinely and sincerely.

It was unfortunately that the heartfelt confession was sentenced to a premature demise, long before the first syllables could ever be vocalized.

"What?" the other rasped, breathless and weak. His face was red, and at that moment, Alvin had to wonder if the unusual shade had been brought by his condition or some form of righteous indignation.

 _Probably both_ , he thought. Inwardly, he cringed, and outwardly, he flinched at what he perceived as a heated glare from the other chipmunk. Like a bullet, the glare shot straight through his heart, leaving behind a sense of agony the likes of which he had never felt within, like someone was roughly squeezing the organ inside his chest. His face, unbeknownst to him, had paled a few shades.

"Si, I'm…I'm sorry. I really am…Let me…"

"No, Alvin," replied Simon with a higher tone, and this time, his words were uttered with more fervor and released anger, neither of which had gone lost on Alvin.

"No? No what?" asked the older, bewildered and stunned by the outburst. "I don't understand."

"No more," Simon answered, eyelids fluttering as he struggled to stay awake and his mouth curling downward. Compelled by the complete collapse of his patience due to his sickness, Simon, for once, spoke his mind, his thoughts and meaning unedited, uncensored. And unbearably blunt. "I'm tired…of hearing your stupid _excuses_. I'm tired of tolerating _your actions_ , of _forgiving_ you all the time…Tired of it, all of it, _Alvin_." The name that left his lips sounded like it was coated, intentionally, with a poison of the deadliest variety. The effect was immediate.

An undisguised look of hurt and shock dawned on the red-clad boy. Eyes now widened to the size of dinner plates studied the bed-confined chipmunk in pure helplessness. He opened his mouth, yet nothing came out except for heavy puffs of hot breaths. For even he knew, subconsciously, anything that he could think of would be perceived as excuses and even more excuses. Thus, Alvin closed his mouth and let his cap obscure his face.

Simon went on, mustering what little remain of his strength that he could to let out everything he had been containing inside his heart for years.

"You _always_ ruin everything…" he went on, his emotions now gushing forth like a river whose dam had been torn down completely. A massive flood had been formed inside the young scholar, and it was moving fast - an unstoppable force. "Three years of waiting…wasted…my position…lost. _Everything_! Why? What did I ever do?"

Alvin stood still and took everything thrown at him in silence. His head hung still, his eyes hidden from view. His fists, however, were trembling slightly behind his back.

Oblivious to the other boy's state of mind, Simon continued on with his heated and, uncharacteristically, _hateful_ string of accusations. His control over rationality and lenience had been eradicated by the fog hazing his thoughts, rendering him unable to stop his flow. The only way was forward, and so he did with neither hesitation nor remorse. Greedily sucking in a large intake of air, he proceeded onward.

"Everything…is fun to…you, isn't it? So…is it _fun_ to see my _misery_?" the last part ended in a hiss which immediately melted into another violent bout of coughs, each vicious wave effectively wrecking his weakened body underneath the blanket. He could not breathe, and his throat felt like it was being set on fire – once again dry and irritated by each cough.

"Simon, please calm down! You're getting way too worked up, and it's not good for you! You need to relax!" Alvin swiftly looked up and temporarily banished the hurt deep inside for later. Instead, a new face of genuine concern and worry took over, and with as much gentleness as possible, he urged the other while at the same time placing one hand on Simon's shoulder for extra comfort. Inwardly, he sighed a breath of relief that at least Simon did not reject his touch as well.

Being repulsed mentally was unbearable as it was. Being repulsed physically… Alvin's mind did not stop to entertain that thought for long. Rather, it prioritized Simon's health as first and foremost, and guided the body's movements accordingly.

"Breathe with me, Simon, come one, one, two, three…Keep up with the beat. One, two, three. That's it, yes, that's it…"

The coughing subsided somewhat after a minute or two and haled to a complete stop another later. Simon's breathing ceased to be frantic and short. The pain in his throat faded. The anger, however, did not.

If anything, it seemed to intensify as his condition worsened.

Alvin, noticing the glare shot at his direction, retracted his hand, albeit with much reluctance and regret. His lips parted, but before any utterances could be produced, the boy in blue cut in.

"Get out," Simon quietly demanded in his fatigued state, eyelids drooping but still stubbornly putting up a fight against the lull of unconsciousness. "Get…out!" he repeated, a tad louder this time.

"Simon…please. Let me help…" Alvin stuttered, distressed, in a last-ditch attempt to get through to his sibling. Like before, it failed miserably.

Simon, in reply, spoke up, his words divided between breathless gasps as he did, "We...both know...the only one you're trying help is _yourself_ , not me. So...get out! Out! Out! _Out_!" the boy stressed with a sense of finality, leaving no room for any further responses.

…Silence. Eerie and complete silence. Like a series of thick, suffocating blanket, layers upon layers, it fell on the room and wholly covered everything, burying all other noises save for the constant, rhythmic pants of the sick.

It was only dispelled approximately five minutes earlier by external sources of noises: the horn of Dave's car, which was subsequently succeeded by the sound of the front door opening. They cut through the stillness and banished the tranquility for a brief second…

Before a sequence of light footsteps was heard, echoing hollowly as tiny feet treaded solemnly toward the exit, followed by the unmistakable creaking sound of the door's hinge as it slowly, hesitantly closed…


End file.
